


“Bryce Versus the Real Truth about Chuck”

by Polgarawolf



Series: The Truth About Chuck [2]
Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Buy More, Captivity, Central Intelligence Agency, Concern, Declarations Of Love, Dreams, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Secrets, First Kiss, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Fulcrum, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Healing, Hope, Hopeful Ending, Intersect, Joyful, Kidnapping, Lies, M/M, Masks, Mission(s), NSA, Near Death Experience, Prison, Protective Bryce, Protective Chuck, Protectiveness, Questions, References to Torture, Requited Love, Rescue, Scars, Sci-Fi References, Secrets, Sexual Content, Spies & Secret Agents, Stanford Era, Stanford University, Talking, Temptation, True Love, Trust, Unrequited Love, Worry, joy, the ring - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-24
Updated: 2010-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 09:16:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polgarawolf/pseuds/Polgarawolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> This is a <i>Chuck</i> fanfic. I think of it mainly as a character study piece, myself, for Bryce Larkin (and, to some extend, for Chuck, himself, too), but I suppose that it is technically slash, though I don’t think it truly deviates from the show’s canon, all things considered. If you are not familiar with the (fairly) new TV show <i>Chuck</i>, then by all means, go forth and watch it, please. It is made of <i>awesome</i>!</p>
            </blockquote>





	“Bryce Versus the Real Truth about Chuck”

**Author's Note:**

> **Story/Author's Notes: 1).** This isn’t the result of my first ever _Chuck_ plot bunny, though it is only my second written foray into the fandom world of _Chuck_ and, honestly, is really just an extension of my first foray into this particular fandom world. This particular plot bunny happened to be quite persistent and to appear at a time I was particularly vulnerable to plot bunnies (i.e., when I was extremely upset about something in another fandom and really shouldn’t have been indulging the lunacy of my head muse by allowing her to feed me a plot bunny for a different fandom in order to distract me), and, though it’s taken me a long time to get the long-handed version (which was literally written the day after the season finale for season two of Chuck) typed up for posting, the idea that this could eventually happen on the show has never quite left my head, which is why I finally gave in and made the time to get it typed up and posted. 
> 
> **2).** Since this story was originally written long-hand over half a year ago and certain things have happened on the show since, I’ve made a couple of minor adjustments (mostly involving mention of Agent Shaw) to it as I typed it up. However, readers should note that it is still, essentially, a reaction to the _Chuck_ second season finale, more than anything else, and, even if the possibility of such a series of events is eventually Jossed on the show, I am and will remain firmly of the opinion that this or something very like this could easily happen on the show, given the rather complex/complicated relationship between the two characters who feature in this story.
> 
>  **3).** Before anyone tries to argue that the notion of Chuck going after Bryce alone is farfetched or that the ending of this story is abrupt or out of character for Chuck, permit me to point out that Chuck has a helluva lot more backstory with Bryce than Sarah (or even Jill, for that matter) and (in addition to trusting Bryce a lot more than he seems to have ever trusted anyone) was a lot closer to Bryce than he has, arguably, been with anyone not a blood member of his family. Also, allow me to remind readers of Chuck’s massively protective nature towards those he cares about (including family, friends, handlers, and coworkers), and of both his willingness to rush headlong back into a relationship with Jill, before he knew she was Fulcrum, and the abruptness with which he turned to Sarah, in “Chuck Versus the Colonel.” Chuck is not someone who necessarily stops to think things through, if someone he cares about is in trouble (especially if others seem unwilling to do anything to help), even if acting will put him in danger. And the show has gone to great lengths to establish that he is lonely, starved for affection (from someone other than his sister, that is), and extremely hung-up on Bryce and what happened at Stanford. If the affection that Bryce and Chuck so obviously feel for each other goes at all beyond than friendship (and I’d be really interested in hearing some other explanation for their behavior/actions, on the show), it seems to me that Chuck’s essential nature, as established on the show, could hardly permit any other conclusion, with Bryce. 
> 
> **4).** It made me happy to write this story. Please refrain from fussing at me about writing it. I know I should be working on a _**Star Wars**_ story (take your pick as to which one. I know there are at least four if not five I should seriously be working on, probably at this very moment) or the HP AU I’ve only written one part of or the _Criminal Minds_ series of short stories I never finished or, hell, anything but this. Life has been crappy lately. _Chuck_ makes me smile, folks, and, quite often, laugh myself silly. More people should watch this show. More people should write in this fandom. It’s a non-sci-fi show for sci-fi geeks. Trust me. It’s made of pure, unadulterated _awesome_. Writing this was cathartic, if only because it made me smile so very much. So please, _please, **please**_ refrain from grousing about how I wrote this instead of working on something else, okay? Thanks!
> 
>  **5).** I tend to really suck at titles. Anyone having a better idea for a properly _Chuck_ -ish title for this little piece should therefore please feel free to pass it along as a suggestion, as the current title is rather makeshift!
> 
>  **6).** For those who may not know, _maj_ is Klingon for “good,” _qamuSHáqu’_ is Klingon for “I love you very much,” and _bangwI’ SoH_ is Klingon for “You are my beloved,” whereas _par’Mach’kai_ is a Klingon term of endearment used to refer to one’s romantic partner, and _t’hy’la_ is a Vulcan word that can translate as friend, brother, and/or lover.

　

"Bryce Versus the _Real_ Truth about Chuck"

 

　

Bryce Larkin is heartily sick of being shot.

It’s not just the fact that the bruises take weeks to fade, if he’s wearing a vest, and then pull enough to make it hard to move like he all too occasionally needs to be able to move. No. The whole getting shot and dying and being brought back to life bit is just . . . well, it’s getting _old_ , is what. And it’s _disconcerting_. The process has pretty much been perfected (as long as the body’s put on ice within an hour of death, so the doctors can work on reviving it properly, later), and it’s safe enough that the procedure could actually go public (if it wouldn’t cause chaos and panic and probably mass rioting, among those with religious objections to literally raising the dead back to life), but apparently there’s always some missing time in a revival (even a quick one), and, to make matters worse, it frankly bothers him, to know his continued existence has twice been entirely dependent upon and basically at the whim of what amounts to a bunch of experimenting scientists.

And, too, there’s the whole being boxed thing, which reminds him just a little bit too much (uncomfortably so!) of the ultimate form of punishment, for a humanoid Cylon, on the re-imagined _Battlestar Galactica_ series (as if the whole revival thing weren’t bizarre and science fiction-y enough! He _likes_ sci-fi and all, but for pity’s sake! There’s a reason it’s _fiction_ ,and he’d just as soon keep as much reality in his life as he can, thanks all the same! His life’s fictional enough already without inviting obvious comparisons to a remake of a sci-fi television show, no matter how undeniably awesome that show might be!). Even before this new group of bad guys apparently decided to use the recovery box/stasis chamber as their own little private perfect holding cell and form of torture, all rolled into one, he’d disliked the whole idea of being boxed up. Being constantly kept in a damned box for "safe keeping" has just reinforced the notion, as far as he’s concerned.

The really bad thing, though, is that this is basically all his own fault. He’s too dangerous for them to want to risk just locking him up in a safe house or makeshift prison somewhere; yet, he’s also too potentially useful and too damned valuable as a potential asset/agent for them to do anything but keep him, in hopes of eventually being able to turn or reprogram him. After all, if they ever get their own Intersect up and running, Bryce’s the perfect candidate to host it. Hell, he tests as an Intersect already, even though he technically isn’t one. Orion did some preliminary tests on him in the two years directly preceding Chuck becoming the first human Intersect, proving willing to give the idea of a human Intersect another go because he thought that Bryce would be able to use all of that information (and the power it yielded) responsibly, given what he’d done to protect Chuck from the Agency at Stanford, and he’d wanted to be absolutely sure that Bryce could handle having that much information dumped into his head. Then the Agency did some more tests, when they were preparing a replacement for Chuck (who’d always made it clear that he didn’t want to remain the human Intersect, even though Bryce always figured he’d learn to want it, sooner or later) and decided Bryce would be the logical choice, given the kinds of modifications they wanted to add to Stephen Bartowski’s work on the latest Intersect technology.

The amount of activity in his brain proves he’s both capable of being an Intersect and that he already to some extent functions at least a little bit as a human Intersect. In fact, some of his captors clearly believe that Bryce already is a full-fledged human Intersect – albeit an earlier model/version than the one destroyed by Chuck – and, to be on the safe side, he’s done nothing to disabuse them of that notion. Unfortunately, while it’s helped to encourage his mysterious captors to keep him alive, it’s also convinced them that the box is the safest possible place to keep him, since nothing short of a complete overwrite will be able to override the safeties he has against conditioning and it won’t be safe for them to try any new Intersect technology out on him until after they’ve figured out a way to successfully do that.

They revive him occasionally, to remind him of all the reasons why they’re holding him and to try to see if they can either get anything useful out of him or tempt him to change sides willingly. Since he’s really only vaguely aware of the passage of time or what’s going on while he’s under, in the box, he could almost look forward to those occasional revivals, if not for the occasional bouts of torture accompanying them.

He’s expecting another session of _let’s torture the prisoner_ when he hears an achingly familiar voice, breathlessly exclaiming, "Bryce! Bryce, buddy, thank God! I _knew_ you were still alive! I _knew_ it! I _told_ them they would never kill you! Buddy, buddy, come on, open your eyes! Oh, God, please, let him be alright, let him not be hurt or brainwashed or – God! Bryce! _Bryce!_ Buddy, can you see me?"

His eyes snap open so quickly that he can’t see anything at all, at first, blinded by the ambient light in the room. When he can focus, though, the first thing he sees is one of the last things he saw before dying, the last time around, and he thinks at first that he must be either dreaming or hallucinating, Chuck’s familiar, worried face is so close and his expression is so desperate. So he gasps, "Dreaming," and, groaning softly with disappointment, allows his eyes to fall back shut again.

Chuck proves almost at once that he’s not, though, rapidly insisting, "No! No, you’re not dreaming! Please don’t go to sleep on me, Bryce, I don’t know if I can get you out of here without some help! Come on, open your eyes for me again," he pleads, laying an oddly gentle hand on Bryce’s cheek and patting him like one might pat a sleepy child. The touch is joltingly real – the heat of Chuck’s skin and the slightly calloused roughness of his palm almost like a brand, galvanizing Bryce so much that he gasps as his eyes fly back open – and it is with a sense of shock and wonder that he reaches up to place his own left hand on top of Chuck’s right, not so much to convince himself of Chuck’s realness as to simply allow him to savor it.

"Chuck!"

Chuck’s face lights up, his smile so dazzling that Bryce feel flash-blinded. " _Yes!_ Yes, it’s me. You know me – you remember – you’re still you! Right? Bryce? Right?"

"Me. Yeah. I’m still me. How did you find me?"

"I’ve been trying to look for you ever since they took you away. Sarah said I was being a fool – that you’d died, not just passed out from the shock and pain from the blood loss, and that they probably wouldn’t risk bringing you back and wouldn’t keep you alive long even if they did, because you’d never cooperate – but I couldn’t just let you go. Somehow, I knew you weren’t really dead. Casey kept trying to tell me to mourn and let you go and move on, but I told him I couldn’t mourn for you again when I knew you were still alive. They both thought I was crazy, but I just couldn’t give up on you, especially not after that double agent claimed you were being kept in a box like a toy. Bryce – "

"The others?"

Chucks expression shutters. "They’re not here, Buddy. It’s just me. Don’t worry, though. I’ve got all the building schematics and plans and there are a dozen ways we can get out of her without having to even pass a checkpoint. We’ll make it. We just have to be careful and get you out of here before some jerk decides to come in and stare at the boxed toy. Come on – let’s get you up and moving. I mean, you can – ?"

"Just help me up," Bryce immediately insists. "Get me unhooked from all of this without setting off the alarms. Can you – ?"

"Taken care of. No alarms. No one will notice a thing. They’ll never even know you’re gone, until someone actually comes in to take a look at you. Dad sent me with this nifty little thing here – see?" Chuck explains, proffering a gizmo that looks vaguely like a cross between a tricorder from _Star Trek_ and a digital camera, " – and I took a picture so I can get a hologram of you up and then they’ll have to physically come in and try to touch you before they’ll know for sure you’re gone. That’s the plan, anyway. As long as we don’t tip anyone off – "

"Clean escape. Good idea. Buy why are you alone? The danger – "

Chuck shakes his head stubbornly. "I can take care of myself. It’ll be alright."

Bryce just _looks_ at him, his eyes doing the talking for him.

"Hey, I’ll have you know I’ve gotten a lot better at this spy stuff, mister. I got in and found you without anyone else being the wiser, now didn’t I?"

Bryce scowls. "The risk – "

"Worth it. _Completely_ worth it," Chuck flatly interrupts, long fingers carefully unhooking him from the various life-support mechanisms of the box. "Now come on! Let’s get out of here while the getting’s still good! I just have to – there. Here, hold on, I’ve got some sterile pads – "

Bryce brushes off the attempt to offer medical care. "Never mind. I need clothes more than I need band-aids. Did you – ?"

"Got ’em right here. I hope you don’t mind. My dad found out where you were staying, before Ellie’s wedding, and I raided your suitcases. Can you believe those idiots were going to just throw most of your stuff out, clothes and all?" Chuck scoffs, bending down to retrieve a nondescript black backpack from the floor by his feet. "Hey, you need any help with this?"

Alarmed, Bryce tells him, "Just turn around."

Chuck instantly rolls his eyes, half laughing at him. "Oh, come on! Like I never saw you naked in college? Let me help you – "

"You can help by turning around. Get Orion’s holograph ready. Find us the shortest way out. I want to test my strength before we run for it."

Chuck frowns, the expression half pure stubbornness and half thinly restrained suspicion and anger. "How long have you been in that thing, Bryce? You’re awfully thin – "

Scowling back at him, Bryce starts to insist, "I can do this. Just – what was that?"

Voice dropping low, harsh with worry, Chuck exclaims, "Crap! Somebody’s coming! Look, take this, just in case. I’ll go take care of it."

"But Chuck, you – "

"Just take this! And be _quiet_!" Chuck hisses, shoving a gun into Bryce’s hands and dashing off out of the room.

He’s no longer attached to the machinery of the box, but Bryce still has to struggle to untangle himself from the loose wires and actually get up out of the damnable thing, his muscles weak and wasted from his confinement, despite the mechanisms built into the box to keep them from atrophying completely. By the time he gets to the door on his rubbery, unsteady legs, it’s basically all already over with. Chuck’s delivering what looks suspiciously like a roundhouse kick to a fourth and final suited goon, who drops like a puppet whose strings have abruptly been cut. Bryce gapes at the sight, too shocked to do anything else at first. He’s still gaping like an idiot when, evidently alerted to his presence by some slight noise he’s made, Chuck whirls around, in a stance Bryce recognizes from the kung fu classes he took as a child. He falls out of the stance awkwardly, as though he’s not entirely comfortable yet with the movements of the discipline, and Bryce knows at once what must have happened, after he was shot. "Chuck! You – you – the Intersect program – " he stammers, torn between surprise and a fierce surge of pride.

Chuck shoves his hands into the pockets of his black fatigue pants and ducks his head sheepishly, as though ashamed. "Er, yeah, about that. Look, I can explain – "

Bryce just makes a beeline across the room to Chuck, too pleased and proud (and suddenly full of hope) to care whether or not his actions might surprise his old friend. "I am _so_ proud of you!" he firmly declares, clasping Chuck tight and close in an unabashed embrace.

Chuck just stands there woodenly for a few heartbeats, evidently too surprised to move or speak, but then all of the air rushes out of him and he not only relaxes into the embrace, his arms come up around Bryce and he clutches him desperately close, hands plastered against his back. "You are? Really? I mean, I wasn’t sure you’d understand. I wanted you to. I didn’t want you to be angry. I just – I couldn’t let it be destroyed like that. I couldn’t let them win. I know I spent almost the whole time that first Intersect was in my head insisting I wanted it out, but you were hurt and there was no one else there who could’ve taken it in without probably getting their brain fried by it and I knew I could and I – "

Bryce huffs out a small laugh, interrupting the desperate flow of words. "You wanted to be able to help. You wanted to do the right thing and keep trying to help keep people safe. I understand, Chuck. I understand _completely_. You’ve _always_ wanted to help other people."

"I know you think being in the field would destroy me, but – "

Bryce laughs again, unable to help himself. "Chuck. As long as you’re the human Intersect, they’ll keep you safe. They’ll keep you from the worst of it. The Agency won’t risk losing you over some minor squabble. Your handlers can stand between you and the worst of things. Hell, _I_ could shield you from the worst of things, now, especially since you can take care of yourself properly, with the defensive/offensive aspects of that download."

Chuck just shakes his head, his grip on Bryce tightening, as though he’s afraid Bryce is about to tear himself away, voice mournful as he ashamedly admits, "I know you wanted to be the next Intersect – "

"No, Chuck. I volunteered because there was no one who tested as high on visual retention who could do the work without getting killed. You’ve always been the better choice, memory-wise. The adjustments made at the government’s insistence to the latest Intersect download make you the better choice now, _period_."

"I don’t want to take this away from you – "

Patiently, he cuts him off again, insisting, "Chuck. You’re not. Trust me. I’m really only on this project at all because Orion likes me and I’ve got a highly visually-oriented memory."

"Orion. Right. About that," Chuck drawls, the confused and frustrated frown almost tangible in his words. "My dad wouldn’t tell me – "

"I asked him not to. Chuck, I was your friend first. He approached me because he found out we went to the same school and what I did, to keep the Agency from recruiting you. I told him right off the bat to stay the hell away from you I thought he was going to try to use me to recruit you for the Agency. He laughed at me so hard I thought he was going to hurt himself! He’d wanted to make sue I wasn’t going to try to recruit you, myself. As if I’d ever do that to you! Chuck, no offense, but you were really way too trusting to be an agent. And I couldn’t ever take that away from you. I just – I couldn’t be the one to do that. And I couldn’t stand by and let someone else do it, either. I’m sorry – I know I hurt you, at Stanford – but it all happened so suddenly and so fast that I just couldn’t think of another way to keep you safe quickly enough. The Intersect program wasn’t anywhere near ready for a human, back then, and the Agency isn’t exactly known for taking the long view on many things. If they hadn’t gotten you killed, the would’ve destroyed your soul, and I couldn’t let them do that. I _couldn’t_.I wanted so much to tell you all of this, before, but Orion thought he could keep you safer by keeping you unaware of his part in all this. I promised him not to tell you who he was, if he’d help make sure they’d chose me, to host the Intersect, instead of looking for a better possibility . . . and maybe finding you. If I’d known, then, how much trouble that would cause, though – "

"It’s not your fault," Chuck immediately, passionately insists, shaking his head. "You were just trying to protect me. Both of you. I just – I wish it hadn’t happened this way. You’ve been hurt so many times – "

Slightly flustered by the turn the conversation has taken, Bryce shakes his own head, brusquely declaring, "Comes with the territory, Chuck."

"Yeah, but it’s _my fault_. It’s because of _me_. If you hadn’t been trying to protect me – "

"You can’t think like that. You can _not_ look at it that way. The ones who hurt me are responsible, not you and not your father. I never would’ve done any of it if I hadn’t thought you were worth protecting."

"But _why_?" Chuck demands, plaintive voice scaling upwards with distress. "Why did you even bother? I know we were friends, but – but you and Sarh were partners, for God’s sake, and she wouldn’t even _try_ to look for you, after that man said they were still holding you!"

"I like to think I’m a little less fickle than Sarah Walker, Chuck," Bryce replies, his laugh only slightly hollow. "I know what it means to have real friends, for one thing. _Unlike_ her. She’s a nice girl and all, but she didn’t exactly have a very normal childhood. Some things are hard for her to understand. I’m sure you’ve noticed that, by now."

To his disappointment, Chuck pulls slightly away at that pointed remark, moving back until he can look, scowling, into Bryce’s eyes. "Bryce. Come on, man, seriously! Why? It’s not like I’m anything all that special – "

Flatly, he interrupts, declaring, "See, now, that’s where you’re wrong. And the way you just don’t see it pretty much accounts for most of the reason why what makes you so special is so worth preserving. I don’t think I’m going to convince you fo that here, though, and we still need to get out of here. So come on. I still need to put those clothes on you brought for me."

"Bryce – "

"Chuck. Later. Alright? I promise we’ll talk about it later, when we’re safely out of here."

Obviously hedging for more time (though he can’t, for the life of him, imagine why), Chuck tells him, "There was kinda something I already wanted to tell you, then."

Bryce raises an amused eyebrow at him. "I think we’ll have time for both, unless your bodyguards are going to be waiting for us so they can arrest you on sight for disobeying orders and haring off alone to find me."

Hesitantly, Chuck warns him, "You might not want to talk to me, afterwards."

Bryce snorts incredulous laughter at the notion, unable to help himself. "Chuck. Unless you’ve joined the enemy, become a mass-murdering cannibal, or gotten legally married in the time I’ve been captured, I don’t think you need to worry about me speaking to you."

Chuck blinks at him, clearly dumbfounded. "Married? Me? To whom?"

Bryce raises his other eyebrow, this time, mockingly offering, "Sarah, maybe?"

Clearly horrified, voice almost squeaking with disbelief and shock (the level of genuine emotion there at once making Bryce’s heart race with sudden – most likely uncalled for and entirely ridiculous – hope and giving him pause, as he suddenly wonders just how long he’s been in that damned box, anyway, for Sarah’s start to have so obviously lost its luster, in Chuck’s eyes), Chuck demands, "Are you _kidding_? Half the time she won’t even talk to me, much less tell me the truth about anything! Why would I want to marry her?"

This time, both eyebrows climb towards Bryce’s hairline. Carefully, he notes, "You do an awfully good imitation of someone in love with her, if you aren’t."

Chuck instantly turns bright red with embarrassment. "Yeah. Uh. About that – "

Bryce, though, just shakes his head in dismissal. "Never mind. You can tell me when we get out of here, if you want."

"No, look, I realize a lot of stuff must’ve looked bad, to you – "

"You know she’d decided not to come be a part of the new Intersect program, after all, right? I distinctly recall telling you that she wasn’t coming, Chuck."

If anything, Chuck flushes harder, at that. "Yeah, uh, about that . . . you know how Sarah changes her mind, like, a whole lot, when it comes to her work?"

Warily, Bryce allows, "I know she can occasionally seem to change her mind fairly rapidly about some things, if work is involved. Why?"

"She wasn’t going with you or staying with me, either. Or at least, I found out – quite a while after the fact, and no thanks to her – that she’d asked to be stationed in Europe for awhile, clear of the whole Intersect project. That kinda fell through when you were . . . taken, and I had to upload the new Intersect program into myself, but you should know she wasn’t planning on sticking around because of me," Chuck explains, his small chuckle bitter. "Casey at least left me a way to contact him, in case of any emergencies. Sarah just wanted to get out. Of course, since I was the new Intersect and there was no way to get it out or put it into anyone else, right away, and since Sarah and Casey had been my original handlers, they both got reassigned to me, then, whether they necessarily wanted to be or not."

His heart twists painfully within him, at the level of acrimony and hurt in Chuck’s voice, and Bryce again mentally flagellates himself for not being stronger, faster, better, hell, someone actually worthy of some of the trust that Chuck apparently still has in him, despite all of his many failures and flaws.

He remembers, with exquisite painfulness, his early attempts to convince Chuck that he wasn’t worthy of the kind of faith and trust Chuck so obviously placed in him (nights when they’d both had too much to drink, resulting in drunken confessions – which had to stop after Bryce’s new "job," junior year – where Bryce would tell Chuck not to trust him, that Bryce had never had any real family and probably wasn’t even capable of the kind of love that sprang so readily from the Bartowskis. That Bryce wasn’t selfless like Chuck, that he wasn’t even as nice as most normal people are, and, let’s face it, normal people can be real bastards. Bryce had tried to tell Chuck that he would never be one of them – those people with families who knew how to share their life with other people. That maybe only a special few were capable of really, truly loving somebody besides themselves. And that maybe – probably – Bryce had already missed his chance to become one of them. Chuck had never believed him. Most of Bryce’s attempts to warn him off had resulting in Chuck earnestly, passionately insisting that Bryce’s family were a bunch of useless, neglectful losers, that Bryce was one of the best people Chuck had ever known, as well as one of the best friends, and that, if not having a normal family made them dysfunctional, then clearly they were destined to be dysfunctional together. He’d sling an arm around Bryce’s shoulders, and Bryce would lean in to him, clinging to Chuck’s warmth, unable to help himself – wanting so desperately for what Chuck was saying to be true, for him to still have a chance, and for that chance to be with Chuck – until Chuck would finally mutter something about how maybe it was time they turned in for the night. And that would always be the end of it, because Bryce could never quite bring himself to push the matter farther), and is terribly ashamed at himself.

"I’m sorry," he whispers quietly, shoulders hunching slightly, unable to avoid the thought that everything he does only seems to hurt the one he most wants to be able to protect. "It’s my fault you were put in that situation. If I’d just – "

"Oh, hey, no! Don’t say that. Alright? It was my choice. I could’ve just destroyed it – "

Bryce shakes his head, interrupting, flatly declaring, "No, you couldn’t’ve. You did the right thing – the selfless thing – like you always do, Chuck. You’re a good person. It’s why I didn’t want you mixed up with the Agency and all of this. People like me and your handlers can’t exactly afford to do the morally right thing, all the time. Or even most of the time, to tell the truth. Ethics and spying don’t exactly mix. And ethics and soldiering . . . well, that’s probably even more oil and water than ethics and spying, sometimes. Just ask Colonel Casey and Agent Walker. If they’re at all honest with you, they’ll tell you the same thing."

Chuck flushes darkly, gaze darting away from Bryce’s again. "I didn’t do it because it was the right thing to do. I did it because I couldn’t – I just – there was nothing else to do. They would’ve won. Even if I’d destroyed it so they couldn’t get it, they would’ve won, because then the good guys would’ve had it, either. I couldn’t let them win."

He can’t tell if the color in Chuck’s cheeks is from embarrassment or anger, but the fact that he won’t look at him makes Bryce suspect the latter, and the thought makes him feel as if someone has plunged a knife into his belly and twisted the blade cruelly. "That doesn’t make it my fault you were put in that position in the first place. If I hadn’t sent you the first Intersect, you never would have been involved in this in the first place."

A muscle jumps rhythmically in Chuck’s jaw, where he’s clenching his teeth, but his voice is surprisingly calm when he points out, "And then I never would’ve found out why you did what you did at Stanford or what kind of a person Jill really is or why my dad left Ellie and me like he did. I wouldn’t’ve ever known he was Orion. I would’ve been safer, maybe, but I also would’ve basically been doing nothing with my life besides being miserable and lonely because I thought I couldn’t ever trust anyone again. Thanks, buddy, but no thanks. That’s not a swap I’d be willing to make. My life’s been nothing but crazy since you sent me that email, but at least all of that craziness has been for something. It’s _meant_ something. And having the Intersect hasn’t been all bad. It gave me back parts of my family I’d thought would be lost to me forever. That alone _totally_ makes it all worth it."

"This isn’t the life you wanted. You never signed on for this."

"No. But it’s not all bad. And it’s certainly better than most all of the alternatives I can think of. I’ve helped stop some majorly bad shit from happening, because you had enough faith in me to send me that first Intersect. Knowing that . . . well, it’s a good feeling, Bryce. Besides, this new Intersect? It hasn’t been all bad. I’ve got some mad skills now, even if I’m not exactly super spy material. And Casey and I . . . well, we understand each other pretty well, now. You know, he actually volunteered to be my handler, this time around? I think he’s actually glad I downloaded the darn thing, even if he was disappointed that the problems I had controlling my emotions and focusing enough to use the new Intersect like it was meant to be used made me fail my first go at basic spy training. He keeps claiming I’m growing on him, at any rate, and he’s been actively trying to help me figure out how to master this thing," Chuck elaborates, freeing one hand to wave in the direction of his head, "ever since he got over being shocked by what it could do. Sarah . . . she hardly spoke to me at all for weeks, afterwards, except to maintain our cover, she was so angry at me for what I’d done. When I went away for my training, she tried to convince me to run away with her. When I wouldn’t, she was so angry that the cover story about her being my girlfriend wouldn’t work anymore. I wanted to believe it was because she was afraid I was going to lose myself, in all this spy stuff, but . . . I couldn’t. I knew it was a lie. She just wanted out, Bryce. Casey told me the truth, after having to listen to one too many rounds of complaint from her about being stuck with me again. I think he was disappointed with her, for wanting to cut and run, after all we’d been through. He’s the one who helped me keep looking for you. Sarah refused to even entertain the notion you might still be alive, and the General backed her up because . . . well, I guess it was just easier, you know? They weren’t using you against us, so I don’t think she cared if they had you at all. That rankled Casey. He doesn’t believe in leaving people behind or letting people be taken prisoner. He gave me the time off and the last contact I needed to crack this place. I think maybe he still feels bad for shooting you, before, though of course he’d never admit it," he adds, his laugh closer to genuine this time.

Bryce blinks at him, nonplussed at the news. "John Casey helped you find me? Huh. Wonders never cease." He shakes his head ruefully.

"Well, he knew Sarah wouldn’t. And he could tell I was determined to find you, one way or another, whether anyone helped or not. He said someone had to make sure I didn’t get myself killed." Chuck’s expression is half smile and half grimace, and the bitterness in his voice makes Bryce’s heart ache. "I don’t think he and Sarah ever quite saw eye to eye again, after she started taking Shaw’s side on most things pertaining to me and my safety. He said it was stupid, to think the world needed to be protected from me, instead of the other way around, no matter what the General or Agent Shaw said."

Bryce frowns, not immediately recognizing the name as someone involved in any of the incarnations of the Intersect project. "Shaw?"

"Yeah, uh, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it later, okay?"

Not liking the way Chuck won’t meet his eyes, Bryce tells him, voice firm, "Maybe you should tell me just a little of it now. How is this Shaw person connected to you and why should this person’s opinion have any bearing on the methods your handlers use to ensure your safety?"

Chuck _still_ won’t look him in the eye, and the continued evasiveness makes him suspect that, when he learns whatever it is that Chuck is so determinedly attempting to avoid explaining, he is going to have to hurt this Shaw person. Or at least give the Agent a very pointed talking to. "The General put him in charge of the new Intersect op, because he was the Agency’s expert on the Ring."

Bryce blinks, shocked. The last he’d heard, the Ring had mostly still been considered a conspiracy theory by the Agency, not an actual, functioning threat. "The Ring? You mean – ?"

Chuck half shrugs and half nods, waving a hand around them. "Yeah, this is a Ring facility. Fulcrum was just one of their branches. They found proof of that, somewhere, in the files and stuff that got seized, when we took Fulcrum down. That’s when Agent Shaw evidently got the call. He was . . . really interested in seeing what I could do, to help take on the whole Ring."

Carefully, he asks, "And this Agent Shaw has been . . . helping to keep you safe from the Ring, now that we know they’re a viable threat?"

Chuck’s _still_ not looking at him, and he’s doing that not quite subatomic full-body fidget thing that he always does when he’s been roped into talking about something that’s either so uncomfortable or so distasteful to him that he sincerely wishes he could literally just walk away from the conversation. "Er . . . ah, well, about that. See, it’s basically his job to find a way to take the Ring down, and the Ring . . . they knew that the losses Fulcrum suffered were focused around California and had something to do with the Intersect program, so it seemed like that was the logical assumption to make, to explain Shaw’s interest. And I thought – well. You know me. Naïve Bartowski, that’s me. Always wanting to think the best of people. It . . . well, it was a mistake. Mostly. He wasn’t a friend. He just wanted to see how far he could push me, what I could be capable of, if someone were always pushing and I didn’t, uh, have backup to rely on, all the time, to bail me out, if I got into trouble. He, uh, believed in learning by _having_ to do."

Bryce’s eyes narrow in cold fury. "By having to do _what_ , exactly, Chuck?"

Chuck laughs nervously, falsely, and evasively offers, "Oh. Uh. You know. Spy stuff."

Warningly, Bryce begins, "Chuck – "

"It’s not a big deal. It even helped, kinda, if you think about it. I managed to find you and get you away from the Ring, after all, didn’t I?"

From the defensive tone, Bryce can tell that Chuck isn’t ready to talk about it. So, sighing internally, he decides to give him a temporary out, quietly noting, "We’re not out yet."

Chuck blinks at him, startled by the change in subject. "Huh?"

"I said we’re not out yet. Come on, Chuck. Seriously. Clothes? We are still in enemy territory, here. Hanging around like this probably isn’t that good of an idea."

"Oh. Oh, right!" Chuck half laughs nervously, turning so one arm is still looped securely around Bryce, offering him support if he needs it, and heads back into the room where Bryce has been so cruelly held prisoner. "Right," he repeats, as they reach the spot where the backpack lies abandoned, next to the now empty box." So . . . here we go. Shoes are at the bottom of the pack. I put ’em in a plastic bag, to keep your clothes clean," he explains.

"Weapons?" he merely asks in return.

"Sorry. They took those. You can keep the gun, for now, if you want. I really don’t like them all that much, but Casey insisted I should have one, so I can protect myself, and he fought hard to get the others to agree, so I carry it anyway," Chuck explains.

Bryce sighs a little, then shrugs in resignation. "Fair enough. Turn around," he orders, moving to prop himself up against the platform the box rests on, since he can’t exactly lean on Chuck while he’s trying to change into real clothes.

"But you – !"

"Chuck, no offense, but I’m not going to vanish or die or anything if you take your eyes off me long enough for me to get dressed. Besides, I think you’ve probably already gotten an eyeful," he adds, brushing his right hand self-consciously across his thigh, the nearly paper-thin material of the pants he’s wearing (his sole item of clothing, providing about as much coverage as a rice paper screen might) rustling dryly. When he looks back up, he’s surprised to find Chuck standing a lot closer to him. Extremely close, in fact. So close, that he can’t help but suddenly be painfully aware of the fact that he can feel the heat of his friend’s body, and it takes an act of supreme will to keep from responding inappropriately to that heat and that nearness. Chuck’s frowning again, dark eyes trained on Bryce’s chest and side, where the most obvious scars from his two fatal gunshot wounds stand out, pink and raised, against the pale smoothness of his skin. "They’re just scars – " he starts to gently remind Chuck, but then Chuck is reaching out and placing his hands flat over the evidence of those wounds, right hand curving around his left side (fingertips skimming close to his hip) and left hand high upon his chest, over his right pectoral, the nipple reflexively hardening to stony prominence.

He gasps before he can stop himself, body shuddering, and Chuck leans forward even more, so close that Bryce has to fight to keep from leaning in as well and cannot keep from letting his eyes fall shut as Chuck vehemently insists, "No. They’re not."

He usually has better control over his body than this – _much_ better control, honed by the better part of four years in such close proximity to the one he most wanted and could not under any circumstances try to have — but he’s been in that damned box for God knows how long and Chuck is just so _close_ to him and . . . and he needs Chuck to back away, _now_ , or he’s not going to have to worry about Bryce not wanting to speak to him, because he doubts if Chuck will be able to even look him in the eyes anymore any time soon. "Chuck – "

Chuck half scowls and half looks like he’s going to tear someone’s head off. The hand on Bryce’s side slides a little further around that side, tightens, and hauls Bryce in closer, making him gasp. "You are _not_ allowed to get shot anymore, Bryce Larkin. _Ever_ ," Chuck half growls, actually physically shaking him a little, as if for emphasis.

Voice more than half strangled, Bryce tries to gasp out again, "Chuck – !"

But Chuck just shakes him again, the tips of his long fingers digging into Bryce’s side, the heel of his hand pressed so tightly over the scar from the bullet that almost it feels as though he’s belatedly trying to staunch the wound. "You are _not_ allowed to get shot anymore," Chuck repeats, voice hard with demand, eyes flashing darkly. "Or stabbed. Or slashed. Or poisoned. Or garroted. Or smothered. Or strangled. Or anything else that could potentially be fatal. No more. Ever again. I’m _not_ going through this again, Bryce. I _can’t_ go through this again. Thinking you might be dead – believing you were dead – I’m not – I _can’t_ – Bryce, don’t you _dare_ do that to me again. Do you understand me? Just _don’t_ ," Chuck orders, shaking him again.

He’s pulled him so close that Bryce can feel the heat coming off Chuck’s body, washing over him in a scalding wave, and the breath of Chuck’s words is gusting over his face so that he can practically _taste_ what he’s saying. A callous on Chuck’s left hand keeps rubbing against the sensitive skin of the hard pucker of flesh that is his nipple, teasing and taunting him with pressure and roughness that, in combination with the slight movement of that hand and the swaying of his body as he’s shaken, results in the most maddening of sensations. He’s forced to bite down hard on a breathy moan, mortified by his lack of control and terrified at the thought of how Chuck might react to his body’s involuntary response to Chuck’s nearness and his touch.

Bryce and Chuck were friends, at Stanford – good friends, best friends, inseparable – but never anything more than that, no matter how much Bryce might have longed for (dreamed for, hoped for, desperately, hopelessly, helplessly wanted) more (no matter how many times he told himself that it was impossible and that he was being foolish), and he is painfully aware of the fact that there is nothing he could possibly say to Chuck, to excuse the way his body’s reacting to this manhandling. He tries to say something, to work up enough strength of will to pull away, to laugh, to do something – _anything!_ – to diffuse the situation and the growing tension that makes him want to close the narrowing gap between their bodies and writhe shamelessly, but all he can manage is a full body shudder that, rather than pulling him away, sways his body even closer to Chuck, if only by a little. Chuck’s hand tightens convulsively about his waist, eyes defocusing ever so slightly, head inclining forward as if to fall down over Bryce’s, and that’s it, that’s all it takes. The noise he makes might’ve easily passed as a sound effect from an X-rated movie, and Chuck shivers, eyes shut, and whispers, " _BangwI’ SoH_ ," before half swallowing a sound that might’ve been either a curse or a moan.

Stunned, hoping beyond hope that he hasn’t misheard or somehow misinterpreted the situation, he half asks and half demands, " _T’hy’la_?"

Chuck’s eyes fly open and, for a moment, he looks absolutely stricken, the horror on his face so absolute that Bryce is painfully reminded of when he was shot, the look of stunned terror and abject horror is so much the same.

Fearing Chuck will pull away and he’ll lose what could very well be his last chance, he quickly moves to place his hand on top of Chuck’s, where it’s pressed tight against his chest, and repeats, not bothering to hide either his longing or his wonder, " _BangwI’ SoH_."

The breath all whooshes out of Chuck at once, and he half mutters and half exclaims, "Oh. _Oh._ _Maj_! Thank God! I thought I’d never get to do this!" before, with an almost desperate violence, he yanks Bryce forward into a real embrace, hand sliding up his chest to curve around his neck and pull him up into an almost savagely passionate kiss.

Bryce decides then and there that maybe getting shot, captured, and boxed isn’t so bad, after all . . . at least not if it’s going to have results like this. A part of him has been afraid that this is nothing but an elaborate dream or hallucination or (even worse) some kind of malicious experiment on the part of those holding him, but it feels entirely too real and Chuck is just too perfectly _Chuck_ for him to doubt, once they’re kissing. Chuck kisses him like he wants to eat him alive, swallow him down whole, hands so urgent they almost hurt, body straining against him in a desperate attempt to get close, closer, _closer_ , noises that probably should be banned from existence for the sake of Bryce’s continued sanity catching deep in the back of his throat.

It’s everything that Bryce has ever dreamed of, ever wanted, and so much more, and all he really wants to do is just keep doing what they’re doing . . . but they’re literally still in the middle of enemy territory and God knows how many bad guys could walk I on them at any moment and he’s just been ordered to never get shot again, so . . . after several minutes of increasingly hungry kisses, Bryce steels himself to pull away enough to speak, angling his head back so that Chuck can nuzzle nipping little kisses down the column of his neck and he can (after sucking a little on Chuck’s left earlobe, not quite able to avoid the lure of kissing, tasting, when it’s hanging so temptingly close) whisper, "As much as I really, _really_ want to keep doing this – and you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to kiss you, Chuck – I think we need to get out of here, first."

Chuck, though, just growls low in his throat. " _Par’Mach’kai_. Want you. _Now_."

"Fuck! Chuck, I – "

"Kept waiting for you to _notice_ me. Waited and _waited_ and **_waited_**. Thought I’d lost you. _Again._ Not letting you get away, this time! _QamuSHáqu’_ , Bryce. _BangwI’ SoH_."

Bryce groans at that, unable to help himself. "Waiting? Chuck, I’ve wanted you since I first saw you! You didn’t – I _tried_ , but you were – well, Jill – "

Chuck laughs, a slight ragged edge of hysteria sharpening the sound. "What was I supposed to do? Say, ‘Nah, no, thanks, man, but hey, if you ever want to go on a date . . . I’m available!’? You were the first person I’d ever really felt that way about and I didn’t know you, then. I didn’t know how you’d react. Then, when I did know you better, well, I really did like Jill, and you seemed pretty content just to be friends, and I really didn’t want to risk losing that – "

"God, if I’d _known_ – "

Chuck looks at him with so much hope and love shining in those dark eyes that Bryce can nearly feel the emotions, like physical weights settling on his chest, and has to stop speaking, because he can’t breathe around the sudden sensation of aching pressure. "Did you – ? Back then – ?" he hesitantly asks, voice shaking.

"Yes. _God_ , yes. If I’d had any idea _at all_ – "

Chuck’s relieved laugh is one of the most beautiful things he’s ever heard. "You’re telling me! We’ve wasted so much time!"

"No more, though," Bryce determinedly promises. "Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here and get started on making it all up!"

"Are you sure? I mean, it’s me. I’m nothing special. I thought you and Sarah – "

"Chuck. She was my partner at a time when I was playing at being a double agent, so we could use the Intersect to flush Fulcrum out into the open. Dating her was the best way to keep her from thinking too much about what I was doing in my spare time. I thought if she followed the Intersect to you, you’d be able to use her to figure out what I’d done and why. But I didn’t trust her to keep you safe. I wanted her to leave with me so I could get her away from you. Don’t be mad, alright? She’s a pretty decent agent, I guess, but she just . . . she’s too easy to influence, to sway. I wanted to be the one keeping you safe, not her."

"You can be," Chuck rapidly offers, his glance half shy uncertainty and half open longing. " If you still want to, I mean. Be one of my handlers. Be my partner, kind of. Help me with all of this – this extra spy stuff. I’m still getting used to what I know and what I can do, now, since that last upload. And I think Sarah would be happier somewhere else. A lot happier. She really hasn’t like this assignment nearly as much since . . . well, since the Ring got involved. I don’t think Casey would object much – "

"Done. We’ll come to some kind of understanding, if necessary. You’ll never be rid of me," Bryce instantly (reckless as hell and, for once, not at all caring if he is) promises.

"I’ll never want to. I’ve missed you, ever since Stanford. You’ve no idea how much I missed you. Ellie used to get after me all the time, because she said you weren’t worth thinking about," Chuck admits, laughing a little, giddy with obvious relief at Bryce’s declaration.

"I think Ellie knew. That I was in love with you. She . . . was very unhappy with me, for what I did. I don’t suppose she knows the truth, now, does she?"

"A little. Not much. Captain Awesome – Devon, I mean – knows a lot more than she does. I keep trying to get the General to approve Ellie, but she claims it’s more important to keep as many of the people around me in the dark as possible. And I don’t think Dad wants Ellie to know. He thinks she’s safer, somehow, this way," Chuck explains, frustration tinging his voice, even though he shrugs a little, at the end, in a _what can you do_ , kind of way.

"Then we’ll figure something out. I’m not going to hide just because she still hates me for Stanford," he swears, the passion in his voice calling a smile back to Chuck’s lips and making him desperately want to kiss him silly.

"Hey, I know! You can be in protective custody or something. She wouldn’t give you away on purpose. We’ll tell her . . . we’ll tell her you were recruited by the government young and either someone blackmailed you into the Stanford thing and your handlers said to go along with it, as a part of some test or mission or something, or else the Agency told you that you had to do it, because you were too close to me. Or something. If they’ll let you stay, they’ll have to let us tell Ellie _something_ , and that’s close enough to the truth that I bet she’ll buy it. She’ll figure it explains a lot, probably," Chuck enthusiastically offers.

"Between you wanting me here and Orion’s trust in me and what I know about the program, they’ll have to. Plus, I’ll damn well quit and stay with you anyway, if they try to tell me no, and I’ll make sure they know it. They won’t want to risk that. So they’ll make adjustments for us. For the rest . . . we’ll figure a way around Ellie, one way or another. I promise."

Chuck’s smile is blinding. "I believe you. Anyway, I think Ellie probably suspects something already. There’s been a lot of weirdness in my life since you sent me the Intersect and even more since I uploaded the newer version of it into myself. A whole lot. I’ve known things I shouldn’t and done something I shouldn’t’ve been able to do and she’s been there for some of it. She hasn’t really said anything yet, but she’s not stupid. The wedding kept her distracted for a while, but anymore I don’t think she’d be nearly as surprised by all of this, at least not the way she would’ve been if I’d tried to tell her after I first found out who Casey and Sarah were and why they were watching me. She might even have already figured out part of it on her own."

Bryce nods in relief. "So we’ve got reason to go ahead and tell her. If she suspects, she might try to do something about it that could damage your cover. Good. That’s good. Gives us a legit reason to tell her the full truth, instead, and swear her to secrecy, to avoid any will public accusations or attempts to involve the wrong kind of authorities."

"Come home with me?" Chuck asks, dark eyes wide and liquid and unabashedly pleading. "I have my own apartment, now – all to myself, now that Morgan’s moved in with his girlfriend – so we don’t need to worry about sneaking you in or anything."

Bryce just grins back at him. "Done deal. Just point me the way out of here. We can . . . " he hesitates, still not sure if he trusts his sudden good fortune, and, not wanting to jinx things, somehow, but pushing too hard too fast, carefully adds, "talk, when we get there."

"Talk. Yeah. Sure. Right. Okay. Fine. Talk. Talk’s fine. Great, even. We can – "

The disappointed nervous blathering reassures him, and he quickly offers, "We can do other things, too, Chuck. If you want. But only if you really want to. I wouldn’t want to push."

"Oh, you can push. Feel free to push. Push as much as you want to!"

"Are you sure?"

" _Yes._ Dear God, yes. I am really, really sure and certain and absolutely positive that I want to do some things with you that don’t involve talking. Or not much talking, anyway. If you want to, that is. I mean, we don’t have to, if you don’t want to, but – "

"I want to, Chuck. I’ve wanted to for years. I thought about it – imagined it – for years. If you’re sure, then I want to. Just show me where to go to get out of here. We can wait to talk until after, if you want," Bryce offers, not bothering to try to keep either his relief at Chuck’s response or his own desire for some non-talking activities with Chuck out of his voice.

"I want. I really, really want. Please?"

"Then let’s go," Bryce offers with a wide smile. "Come on. Turn around. I’d offer to let you help, with the clothes, but I get the feeling we wouldn’t end up going anywhere, any time soon, if I did."

Chuck flushes a little, but grins at him, too, and allows, "Okay, so, you got me there."

He hurries as much as he can, on legs that still feel more than a little weak (for more than one reason, now), to change into real clothes. And, as they make their way out of the facility – their exit surprisingly smooth, only requiring that they hide themselves twice, to avoid being seen (and possibly captured) – Bryce reflects that, quite possibly, it was all worth it after all – even having to hurt Chuck, to keep him away from the Agency. Hell, even getting shot and killed for a second time, because of that damned Intersect – since it seems to have led to such wonderful outcomes.

Perhaps he’ll even send the Ring a thank you note, for their help in getting him here.

As they make their way up out of the facility and over to the car Chuck has waiting for them, grinning with breathless triumph at each other for making it away essentially clean, and Chuck leans in to steal a brief kiss, he thinks he might even have to thank Sarah Walker, for her part in all of this. He gets the feel that, without her screwing things up so phenomenally with Chuck and making him angry enough to take the chance to come after Bryce essentially on his own (help from John Casey to track down the facility or not), he never would’ve had this chance.

Hell. He’ll thank all of them. He can afford to be gracious. He has Chuck. He’s _won_.

And, as far as he’s concerned, he’s never letting go of Chuck ever again.

　

　

　

　

**Author's Note:**

>  **Clarification Notes: 1).** As far as I can tell (solely from plugging _Chuck_ in as an interest in the LJ search engine and then briefly looking at the names of the communities that came up), the trend in this fandom seems to be either to pair Chuck with his obvious romantic interest on the show (Sarah Walker), or else to pair him up with his second handler (John Casey). While I suppose I can understand why fans would do this (at least in the first instance), personally, I dislike the character of Sarah (she strikes me as a liar and a user and if she wants to learn how to be a real girl, she needs to do it by practicing on someone a lot less vulnerable than Chuck, in my not so very humble opinion) and I’m vaguely squicked by the idea of Chuck being with Casey (though I’ll admit that I started watching the show in the first place because of Adam Baldwin, who I remember fondly as Jayne Cobb from _Firefly_ and _Serenity_ ), and there’s just so much subtext and potential in the tangled relationship between Chuck and Bryce Larkin that frankly I don’t understand why more fans aren’t interested in the possibilities of Chuck/Bryce. I wrote this piece in part because I wish the show would do more with Bryce’s character and in part because I honestly think this piece would fit with the show without altering anything in it, an occurrence that so rarely happens with any of the plot ideas I ever have that I was so very stunned that I sort of **had** to write it, just to see if I was right about it not being AU.
> 
> Also, since writing this story down, I have come to consider it the second in a run of fanfics that all belong to the same AU ’verse wherein Daniel-Bryce-Chuck reign OT3 supreme.
> 
>  **2.)** Readers should probably be aware that I am roughly estimating (guestimating might be a better word) the original publication date for most of my shorter non-SW works (and indeed most of my shorter stories in general, especially the ones written over a long period of time), based on when I roughed out notes for them in the story notebooks I carry everywhere with me and when I can recall having worked on certain groups of characters in various fandoms. The year should be accurate (or close to it, anyway), but the month might be off and the day will almost certainly be randomly chosen, since the online account I had originally posted many of these stories to no longer exists. I tend to go back and edit things that are in series whenever I get the time or a new idea causes me to have to make room for something else plot-wise, and odds are good that a story could have been edited for typos as recently as the day of its posting here, but the original version will likely be much older and fairly close to the publication date that I attach to it, if anyone's curious!


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